Always For You
by darkcyan
Summary: [One Shot] Monologue from the point of view of Frog. Thoughts on his relationship with Cyrus.


This small story represents a change for me – it is the first and probably the last Chrono Trigger fic I have written. It was inspired by the (to me) very raw grief Frog displayed in the game when they visited Cyrus' grave in one of the sidequests.

I do not own Chrono Trigger. Well, I own several copies of the game. But I don't own the rights to it. This story is entirely my own take on Frog and Cyrus' relationship, drawn partially from some of Frog's flashbacks and mostly from my own (far too fertile) imagination.

# # # Always for You # # #

I remember.

I remember the first time I saw you. You were years older than me and I had fallen and skinned my knee. I cried. Back then, I cried a lot. But you lifted me up and dried my tears and smiled down at me from such a great height, so far above me. And you made me believe everything would be all right. You taught me to believe.

I remember that time in the woods. Those many times, when the others would chase me out there, away from their parents' watchful eyes and tease me. But somehow, you always seemed to know and you would always be there to scare them away and help me stand back up again. You would shake your head sadly with that twinkle in your eyes and call me a marshmallow, and I would laughingly agree. Because, then, it was true. You taught me to see my weaknesses and you taught me the courage to overcome them.

I remember how in my spare time I always practiced with the sword. Your old sword, though you might not have realized it. It gave me confidence and courage as if, through the sword, you were also standing there, guiding my movements. Then the time came, that one time when I beat you. I think I was far more surprised than you; you just stood back up and slapped me on the back and congratulated me. As if you had recognized before I had myself that my prowess with the sword had passed your own.

After that, I felt there was nothing further I could do with the sword, because I had done something I had expected never to be able to do. And then the next time we sparred, you beat me. You taught me that a true master of any art never stops learning.

I remember that day when you left to become a knight in the king's service. I showed you my bravest face because I knew this was what you wanted to do with your life. And though I knew I'd die if any harm were to befall you, I knew you'd never be happy remaining in our small village. So I showed you my bravest face when you left, then went home and cried. Unlike all the other times, I kept these tears a secret, a secret from everyone but myself. It was the last time I cried until much later. And finally I stopped, because I remembered your hand gently soothing away my childish tears and realized that these, too, were the tears of a child. You taught me to become a man.

I remember when the time came that I too left. I don't know if you ever realized it, but the village was far too empty without your vibrant presence. Without you there to broaden my horizons, the village had become too narrow for me. There was no one to bid me a fond goodbye, no one to put up a brave face so that I wouldn't see the tears inside, no one to run back home and burrow under his covers and shed tears of sorrow that I would no longer be around anymore.

And because I couldn't think of anything better to do, I too decided to become a knight. Perhaps then I could protect you if there was anything you needed protecting from. You taught me what it's like to be utterly willing, without a second thought, to lose my life if doing so would allow you to go on living. You taught me the meaning of the word sacrifice.

I remember the joy of being with you again. Still, it was different, with so many older warriors to occupy your mind and your time. Perhaps you sometimes worried that I felt you neglected me, coming to see me and just talk of old times far less often than, I think, either of us liked. But if so, you needn't have worried. You see, I knew that, old friend I may have been, but you had far more important and interesting things on your mind than me. I did too at times, through the sheer weight of things to learn. So much there was to learn. And I learned, at first because you did, then finally simply because I didn't want to stop. By example, you taught me to take joy in learning for its own sake.

I remember when I first realized that you had fallen in love with our Queen. I doubt she ever knew; I know you never told her. But it was obvious to me. The looks you gave her, when you had made sure she was not looking. The abstracted gaze at times, distracting you occasionally even from sparring. At first I was mad at you, you know. How dared you? How dared you choose her, your liege, to bestow your heart upon? Were you mad? But love drives a person mad. Truth is, I was jealous, though I did not realize it at the time. And then the jealousy slowly faded and sorrow replaced it. Sorrow for you.

Because I knew and you knew that she did not return your feelings, wouldn't even if she was aware of them. And that even if she had, you were always too honorable to ever consider acting on your feelings. Your respect for the king and the queen both precluded that course of action. So my heart ached for the hurt you felt, and it ached because I knew that my feelings would never be returned, either. And because though I yearned otherwise at times, I was every bit as honor-bound as you. In your painful, unrequited manner, you taught me how to love and how to withstand all the pain that feeling such love brought.

I remember your foolish quest to regain the Hero's Medal. I, ever your faithful shadow, followed with you. You beat the frog king so handily that I was reminded yet again of just how much I had left to learn. As the golden medal glinted in your hand, I knew that if ever anyone deserved it, you did. You had always been so brave, so strong. You never stopped picking me up when I fell down, and long after I stopped crying, you were still gently wiping away my tears. You taught me courage and you taught me kindness. You taught me what it meant to be a hero, by being one yourself.

I remember your last moments. When Magus struck you down in your prime and, despite all my vows and my wishes, I was unable to do anything to stop it. I expected to die then myself. I wanted to die, because the world without you in it was a world I did not want any part of. But I didn't die, only changed. Still, at that point, I didn't care any longer what form my body took, because my mind and my heart and my soul were too busy grieving for you loss.

But then the Hero's Medal landed in the stream beside me and I remembered the queen you had loved so much. I remembered the king you had always respected and looked up to. I remembered all the children in our village who, after they grew out of tormenting me, turned out to not be so bad after all. And I knew you wouldn't want me to just give up. You taught me to go on with my life, though I never stopped grieving.

I remember the first time I met that red-headed kid, with a prowess with the sword almost as great as my own. How he and his friends helped me to rescue our queen, and how he somehow managed to repair the Masamune. Your sword. I remember when I accepted that sword as my own, and how it seemed … when I first touched the hilt … that you knew and approved. How he was willing to accompany me on my quest of vengeance against Magus, though I knew he could have just as easily walked away. He taught me to care again.

I remember when we finally fought Magus, and beat him. But he escaped that time, and the next. We did finally catch him, eventually. After Crono died. I very nearly did not survive, having lost first you, then Crono who never meant quite as much to me as you, but was the first one I had come to trust after your death. Still, there were Crono's other friends, friends who had become battle-companions to me. They helped me to move on after his death, and I found that I could help them deal with their grief as well. They taught me that it was better to share grief than to hold it in and allow it to fester.

Magus is no more, but we gained another battle-companion. He has long blue-grey hair and sad red eyes, and strangely enough … I think you'd like him. He has a very dry sense of humor, much like mine and very like your own and he's got a mean hand with a scythe. He's usually my main sparring partner. I can move on with my life now, because he has taught me that revenge is not everything.

But you … you taught me everything, shaped me into the man I am now. And I am a man, despite the form I still take. I realize that now. And now … I find that I can finally tell you goodbye. For the longest time, I've held your memory close to my heart and cherished the still-open wound of grief. I will still hold your memory, I always have and always will. But, with the passage of time, my wounds have finally begun, painfully, slowly, to heal. I am finally ready to move on with my life.

Now, so many years later, I have finally returned to your grave. Because I have finally learned, from no one but myself, how to say my final goodbyes to you.

So to you, my oldest and most beloved of friends, I can finally say,

Rest in Peace.


End file.
